Anarchy
by WeatherWatch
Summary: Hermione Granger is about to experience something in the way of changes. Imagine less discipline, more daring, and a little bit of anarchy... -HermioneMarcus-
1. At War's End

**At War's End**

The Great War had finally ended; Harry's victory would be celebrated for centuries, and the dead mourned annually, but Hermione Granger only had one train of thought as she downed a glass of celebratory Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey: How was she going to get her NEWTs?

Having spent the majority of the previous year on the run, destroying horcruxes, snogging her best friend and being tortured by an insane female Death Eater, Hermione hadn't had a chance to study for the test, and as Hogwarts resembled the battleground it was, it was unlikely to be reinhabited any time soon. Her only remaining option seemed to be Beauxbatons, the Witches Academy situated somewhere in France.

Swivelling in her chair, to try and catch a glimpse of Professor McGonagall in the over-crowded room, Hermione came face to brawny body with Marcus Flint, one of the Order spies who had been feeding false information to the Death Eaters. Sliding gracefully from her seat, Hermione pulled him into a hug.

"You're here!"

Hardly able to be called 'handsome' (Marcus' teeth resembled a bar fight), the muscled ex-Slytherin exuded a mysterious and dangerous aura that seemed to make the surrounding witches swoon and send hateful glares at the tiny Gryffindor.

"I'm so glad you're safe, Marcus. Whatever would I do without my cynic?" She grinned, as he joined her at the bar, ordering a Firewhiskey of his own.

"Have a joy implosion, most likely." He grunted in response, downing the drink in one gulp. Hermione laughed.

"So, Lioness, what's the plan now?" Marcus questioned, pushing his empty glass along the bar top as he watched the brunette gaze across the room at the other occupants.

"I want to finish school, get my NEWTs," Hermione sighed, "but Hogwarts won't reopen for a while, and my only other plausible option is Beauxbatons."

"Nothing wrong with that, little witch."

Hermione pulled a face at the nickname, and Marcus raised his hands in mock defence.

"It's not just because of Tri-Wizard hearsay." He explained, although she didn't believe him.

"Anyway, it's not your only option. My own, dear sister is an attendee of the prestigious St Trinian's School for Girls. It caters to Wizarding families, but also accepts Muggles with magical relations. Good school, that." Marcus took a generous swig of the second Firewhiskey the barman placed in front of him, ignoring Hermione's puzzled look.

"How come it's not mentioned at all?" Hermione queried. "I mean, I'd heard of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but this is something else entirely. Having both wizard and muggle children…" An awed expression washed over the witch's face, and she turned her gaze to the black haired boy.

"I don't suppose you'd be able to give me the school's details?"

Marcus grinned and nodded, pulling a tattered card from his wallet. It appeared to be singed around the edges and had been graffitied to have tiny stick figures ambushing the stone building. Hermione snorted.

"How much alcohol had been consumed that night?" She asked, pointing at the picture. Marcus didn't answer, merely handing it to her before tipping the barman and standing to leave.

"It's been nice, Hermione. Keep in touch. I'll have my sister get in contact." Marcus kissed her cheek in a rather foreign, but not unwelcome, action – the boy rarely showed emotions, and friendly gestures like that were even less common.

Hermione waggled her fingers in farewell, seeing him leave the establishment, before returning her attention to the card.

_St Trinian's School for Girls_

_Independent Boarding School for Intelligent and Gifted Students_

The school looked suitable enough, and Marcus' sister was a clever and intuitive girl whom Hermione had met in secret to exchange information several times throughout the war. If she were to be perfectly honest, Hermione quite enjoyed Aspasia Flint's company, despite her rather Slytherin tendency towards snark.

Perhaps, this, _St Trinian's_ would be a better choice.

**Pshhh. My mind is weird. Although, someone else **_**has**_** thought of the concept before, so not **_**all**_** bizarre. **

**I watched St Trinian's recently, and my head mashed the two together, randomly, at about 9:30pm, so I wrote this introductory chapter. A bit of random writing…may not be regularly updated as a result. **

**Enjoy. **


	2. Welcome To St Trinian's

**Wow, really sorry about the length of time it's taken to finally write another chapter for this… I was in a bit of a rut with all my stories, so I tend to just write another one that's completely different… I've done several… So now I'm back. Cheers for the reviews, everyone =D**

**Disclaimer: Not belonging to me, it's all JK's. Mostly, I believe, anyway…**

**Welcome to St Trinian's**

Hermione tapped her nails against the mug in her hands absent-mindedly as she waited for Aspasia to arrive at the small but impeccably neat flat that she shared with Percy Weasley (it had been a move of convenience - she didn't have the heart to remove the memory modification she had placed upon her parents during the war, and so had left them going about their business as the Wilkins' and decided to look for a place to share – as time had passed, Hermione found Percy quite easy to live with thanks to their mutual desire for cleanliness, respect and rules and had grown quite fond of the swotty Ministry worker).

"Granger, please abate your incessant tapping."

It amused her greatly that the third eldest Weasley used her family name. Closing her hand around the warm mug, she humoured him, and looked to the fireplace before glancing at the clock resting above it on the mantle.

"She'll be here momentarily to take you to that peculiar school." Percy assured the brunette witch, pushing his glasses further up his nose before assuming a serious expression. "Miss Granger…" He started, before pausing, causing her to look at him, but he seemed to have changed his mind.

At that moment the floo flared a brilliant emerald green and the unmistakable, curvaceous figure of Aspasia Flint stepped into the lounge area, dusting soot from her clothes.

"Hermione, darling!" She crooned as Hermione stood, carefully placing her mug on the coffee table, in order to greet black haired witch. Embracing briefly, Aspasia kissed the air beside Hermione's cheek.

"Hello, Aspasia. How are you?" Hermione asked politely.

"Fine, fine." Aspasia had just registered Percy's presence, and Hermione followed her gaze.

"This is Percy Weasley, my roommate." She introduced the red haired man who had risen at Aspasia's entrance. "Well, ex-roommate, I suppose, now."

Indicating that they move into her room, where her belongings were waiting to be removed, Hermione finally grasped what she was doing.

"I'm really going to St Trinian's." She said quietly, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Aspasia merely laughed airily, making Hermione wrinkle her nose.

"Don't laugh. It's is quite big change from roughing it while on the run from Riddle and all his moron minions." She defended herself, shrinking her belongings and placing them carefully in her brown travelling bag. It was spelled in a similar manner to the beaded bag she'd had at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"But, of course." Aspasia agreed as they walked back into the lounge, her face still holding a smile. Her eyes suddenly went wide as she remembered something. "Oh, bollocks."

"Hermione, darling, I've forgotten Chelsea's shoes. I'll be back in a moment." With that, she grabbed a pinch of floo powder and vanished into the flames, leaving a rather startled Percy and a nonchalant Hermione, who was used to Aspasia's occasional bouts of flightiness.

As they waited for Aspasia to return, Hermione was surprised when Percy turned to speak to her, his voice less pompous than normal.

"If…if you ever have the need…Gwynevere's Nest is always open, whether it be for a couple of days, or an indefinite amount of time." He barely had time to finish as Hermione launched herself at him, hugging him tightly and knocking his glasses askew.

"Thank you, Percy."

He patted her back rather awkwardly.

Pulling away, Hermione wiped her eyes and smiled at the Weasley boy just as Aspasia re-entered the apartment.

"Touching, touching, I know. Now let's move, girlie." She shepherded Hermione to the fireplace, waved her fingers daintily in farewell to Percy, before calling out, "St Trinian's" and exiting through the green flames in the fireplace.

Hermione followed, with a small "bye" directed at Percy who merely nodded in response.

**

"What' Marcus up to?" Hermione questioned Aspasia as they walked from the fireplace into a rather oddly furnished reception area – if by 'odd' Hermione had meant 'creepy'. What appeared to be shrunken heads hung in a glass cabinet, and there were a number of voodoo dolls wearing Cheltenham girls uniforms; a well known, entirely muggle, school for girls.

"The usual." The dark haired girl replied, waving her hand in the air in a vague manner. "Now, I do believe it's time for you to meet Miss Fritton – in person."

Hermione felt that the gleeful manner in which Aspasia had expressed the imminent meeting was rather peculiar, but she shrugged it off, and followed her friend to the large, ornate door on the opposite side of the room, the gold name plate displaying _'Fritton'_ glinting in the mediocre light.

"Ah, Miss Flint! I see you've brought our newest recruit." A high pitched voice from the window seat drew Hermione's attention. A tall woman, with an obvious overbite, held a small dog against her pink (and rather hideous, if Hermione was to be honest about it) dress.

"Miss Granger, I've heard only good things about you. I hope that you are, shall we say, easily able to assimilate into our _charming_ school." Miss Fritton smiled at Hermione, who answered appropriately.

"Yes, Miss Fritton, I do hope so."

"Well, then, Hermione Granger; welcome to St Trinian's!" And on that note, Miss Fritton shooed them out of her study.

As the two girls left, the dog barked, and Hermione was sure she heard Fritton say, "Mr Darcy, remove that frown at once". The woman was obviously a bit loopy.

Hermione looked up, to be met with a sea of faces, girls of varying ages. She glanced at Aspasia, who was closing the door behind them, and then back to the stud-

Hermione took in the now desolate hallway, befuddled.

Aspasia must have caught Hermione's confused expression, because she laughed suddenly and nodded her head towards the Headmistress' door.

"Fritton's a bit strange, yes. But she's at the top of her game." Flicking her long hair away from her eyes, she cocked her head to the side and smirked. "Time to meet the girls, I think."

Before Hermione had time to blink, the corridor and stairway were occupied by hundreds of boisterous students, screaming, pushing and shoving past each other, bumping into Hermione as they passed by her motionless figure.

"Come on, Hermione." Aspasia clasped her slender fingers around the brunette's wrist, and pulled her up the stairs, through the throng of girls.

Hermione let herself be lead, and observed the varying and somewhat adapted uniforms –so unlike those of Hogwarts - being paraded around: there were obscenely short skirts; dresses; vests, stockings, all sorts of make-up styles, jewellery…

Very, very different to Hogwarts, Hermione thought. Practically polar.

"Come on!" Aspasia whined, dragging out the 'on' as Hermione lagged behind, trying to take in her surroundings. "There's time to learn directions later."

As they walked down the landing, Hermione glimpsed three older girls being escorted into a nearby room by a cluster of smaller, babbling ones. The older students were garbed in fluffy pink robes, and didn't appear to have any pants or skirts (as far as Hermione could tell) and wore four inch heels that clicked against the wooden floorboards.

One of the smaller students, a red head, held a wand out and performed a fairly simple beauty enhancement incantation, causing the tallest of the senior students' hair to re-curl, taming any fly-away hairs as it pinned her long blonde locks atop her head.

"Aspasia, who are they?"

"Oh, them. They're the Posh Totties." She explained, as if seeing several scantily clad girls wandering through the school was a natural occurrence. Hermione felt a pang of concern.

"They have their own chat-line; earn a fortune every term." Aspasia continued. "Actually, I have to return some shoes, so let's go say hello."

Dragging the petite brunette behind her, Aspasia called through the door in warning to the girls.

"Cover up, Totties. We're coming in."

Entering the room, Hermione was surprised as her eyes were accosted by dozens of decorative lingerie sets, a number of fur-trimmed coats, and a veritable wall of shoes. It was as large as a medium sized shop, and had apparently been enlarged magically to allow for all the clothing to fit.

The curly-haired blonde glanced at them from where she sat in front of a large mirror, using her wand to touch up her make-up while the younger girls chattered around her, occasionally asking how she achieved a certain 'look'. The other two (another blonde, with a girl-next-door type charm, and an Indian girl who's dedication to fashion and beauty put Parvati to shame) were going through the racks on the other side of the room, searching for their next outfits as they babbled to each other.

"Who's your friend, Aspasia? And I do hope you're returning my shoes." The curly haired girl greeted, standing up as she completed her handiwork.

"Chelsea, meet Hermione Granger." Aspasia beamed, ignoring Hermione's gentle blush at being introduced to the stunning trio who were wearing rather revealing outfits that were more suited to a cover of PlayWizard than in a school for girls.

Chelsea's eyes gave Hermione a quick once over, making her feel rather exposed, but the blonde's expression gave away nothing as she extended a dainty hand in greeting.

"Charmed, I'm sure. I'm Chelsea Windsor." The gorgeous female introduced herself, before turning to Aspasia, a hand outstretched. "Shoes, Flint. Hand them over."

The other witch pouted, but her eyes twinkled.

"But you have so many shoes, Chelsea. Surely you won't miss this one pair." She argued half-heartedly as she pulled the strappy gold heels from her pocket and resized them. Chelsea took the proffered shoes, and handed them to one of the smaller students, indicating their place on the shelf with a careless wave of her hand. The child scurried to do her bidding, looking at the shoes in wonder.

"This, here, is Peaches, and, of course, Chloe." Aspasia introduced the other two girls. They were less subtle in their scrutinising of Hermione's appearance, but, to their credit, didn't say anything aloud merely leaving their comments to some raised eyebrows and a tiny wrinkle of the nose at the bushy hair Hermione had battled with for so many years.

"Nice to meet you." Hermione greeted meekly.

"And you, Hermione." Chloe said, amiably, taking her hand as Peaches seemed to consider something.

"Hermione _Granger_, as in Golden Trio, Hermione Granger?" She asked, curiously as she reached out a hand to their new classmate. When Hermione nodded shyly, she let out an excited squeal.

"Oh, goodness - how dreadfully exciting. It's lovely to meet you."

"Come now, Peaches. I simply must take Hermione away before she is completely corrupted." Aspasia interrupted, keenly aware of Hermione's ogling of the clothes and shoes. Opening the door she herded Hermione from the lavish room and led her up another flight of stairs.

**Okaay. So Hermione's met the Posh Totties, and has started at St Trinian's. Next chappie will introduce the others, and hopefully, I'll think of/remember the plotline and/or adventure for this story (feel free to suggest anything (mostly)). Apologies for taking so long – I didn't update before I went on Euro-trip, so it's taken a while!**

**Hope you enjoy it (even if it is a slight filler/introductory chapter)**


	3. The Head Girl

**OH MY GOD! AN UPDATE! Yeah… sorry about that! But I did say that this was just a filler story for whenever (not that it stopped me feeling guilty when I received so many positive, lovely, demanding reviews and alerts). So here is an apology chapter (I also apologise if this has any typos or anything like that…) ^_^**

**Disclaimer: 'T'isn't. And if 't'was, 's a lie. =P**

**The Head Girl**

Feeling slightly overwhelmed at the clothing (truly, it barely constituted that description, she snickered) and the shoes, Hermione let Aspasia pull her up the flight of stairs. She had never considered herself to be one enamoured of such superficial things, but it couldn't be argued any other way – those girls had style.

The pair slowed as they reached a large door with an elaborate golden nameplate. Unfortunately, said door opened before Hermione was able to read the fancy lettering, revealing a tall, slender girl who had clearly left behind her awkward phase, leaving in its stead a confident woman with a sleek black bob and ruby red lipstick that accentuated the smile curving onto her features.

"Hermione Granger." It wasn't a question. "What a surprise."

Aspasia cut through the silence.

"Kelly." She acknowledged with a slight nod, before adding to Hermione: "Kelly's our Head Girl."

"Nice to meet you." Hermione murmured, trying not to feel intimidated. Honestly, she had defeated the Dark Lord – with Harry and Ron's help, of course – and yet she could hardly muster the courage to speak to the Head Girl of some barely known school; ridiculous.

"I think you'll find St Trinian's to be rather different to Hogwarts." Kelly told her silkily, a distinctly Snape-like quality to her voice. "I hope you're up to the challenge."

Whether it was the insinuation of failure, the idea of a challenge, or the raised eyebrow at the end, Hermione wasn't sure, but something reignited her fiery personality and a wolfish grin slid onto her face.

"I'm certain I'll be more than up to it."

Kelly mirrored the expression, eyes flickering with some unknown emotion, and nodded, before returning to her private room.

Despite the lack of threats, the intimidating Head Girl was indeed a formidable presence, somebody whom Hermione preferred to remain on the good side of for the duration of the year. Having a sudden thought Hermione stopped following the dark haired which (who had resumed walking down the corridor).

"Aspasia," Hermione caught her friend's attention. "Is Kelly a witch?"

The younger Flint looked at her curiously.

"No. Why?"

"Just curious."

So, the presence wasn't a strong magical signature, as Hermione had presumed - interesting. That's something to ponder on rainy days, Hermione thought to herself, walking quickly to catch up to Aspasia.

They entered a dormitory at the end of hall, and Hermione was introduced to a large number of girls, most of which had had their names forgotten before she had finished speaking to them. While she felt decidedly uncomfortably around the chavs and the Goths (she supposed it was mostly due to not having been exposed to such trends in her previous schooling), she found herself intrigued by the two first years – twins – who were scarily reminiscent of Fred and George Weasley, right down to the troublemaking nature and penchant for dramatics and destruction (of the explosive kind).

Girls had never been Hermione's strong point, having been friends with boys for the majority of her life, but they seemed friendly enough, and excited at the concept of a new student, so she smiled and introduced herself, receiving a mixed bag of reactions from awe to complete ignorance of her past year.

Hermione kind of liked it.

**

Darkness had encroached quickly as the sun fell behind the trees that framed the grounds, indicating that it was time for dinner. While not as glorious as the same mealtime was at Hogwarts, Hermione appreciated the home-made steak and kidney pie, mashed potato and peas nonetheless. In fact, everything seemed to be going wonderfully.

Seemed being the operative word.

Around halfway through the meal, a loud, ground shaking explosion erupted from somewhere near the area where magical and non-magical creatures were kept. Many of the students screamed, although some, like Kelly, turned to look directly at the first years, catching the slightest glimpse of success that shined in their eyes before becoming appropriately overcome with artificial shock.

However, that was the only thing anybody had time for because about three seconds later, the doors to the dinner hall flew open and several Nifflers barrelled their way into the room; this was rather unfortunate for the chavs, who were plainly the shiniest of the girls with their obnoxious jewellery and tendency towards objects with diamantes.

Hermione gathered her wits first, followed by Aspasia and Chelsea, although neither of those two looked particularly worried, and Hermione was fairly certain they would have preferred not to take any action at all.

Peaches and Chloe were still screaming, as one of the Nifflers caught sight of Peaches' sparkly hair piece.

"STUPEFY!" Hermione yelled, and the black bundle of fluff stiffened before falling onto the table. Eventually they caught all the terrors, but when they placed them all together Chelsea noticed a tag, larger than normal, on their collars. Each was inscribed with a number.

"Erm, I think we might have another problem." She called to Hermione and Aspasia over the chattering of the other students. Kelly had evacuated the building with some of the teachers, to examine the damage from the explosion, leaving the others to make their own decisions.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, brushing an errant curl from her face. Chelsea pointed at the tags.

"One," she pointed to the first Niffler. "Three – Four – Five."

Aspasia groaned.

"You've got to be joking." She grumbled before yelling to the remaining students: "Pair up kids! We've another Niffler to find."

**

As it turned out, there had only ever been four Nifflers, and the pranksters – Kelly had been completely right in who they were – confessed gleefully to this fact, even laughing outright at the irritation of the other students who had been forced to search the building for the tiny but theft-efficient animals.

It was for that reason that Hermione fell into her new bed, exhausted and buzzing from the adrenalin that was kicking around inside her, entering sleep faster than she had in weeks.

**

Blinkingly, Hermione's eyes opened, to be greeted by darkness that suggested it was not yet morning. She breathed out deeply, but a slight sound caused her to pause suspiciously – a side effect of the war.

Suddenly, to her surprise, a light clicked on, shining into her face and making her shield her eyes. She was surrounded by her fellow students, some of whom bore gleeful expressions and instruments Hermione was unsure if she recognised. Her wand had, somewhat inconveniently, fallen to the floor, and in seconds she had been pulled to a sitting position and thrown onto a desk chair – the kind with wheels – and tied to it by the ankles and wrists.

"You've proved yourself at Hogwarts, and even in war," Kelly stepped into the circle of light, her silken voice almost a purr. "Can you prove yourself in St Trinians?"

Hermione took up the challenge in the Head Girl's voice, despite the fear that was creeping up on her; after all, she had been ganged up on by the entire student body – at least that was how it seemed.

Thinking over her arsenal of non-verbal and wandless magic, Hermione finally chose a spell. It was a particularly difficult spell, as it could be done without hand movements (although this meant it was rarely performed – not many had that power).

In a split second, she had freed herself from the binds and was standing, wand in hand.

"I told you earlier, Head Girl. I'm always up for a challenge."

Kelly allowed herself to look impressed. Her lack of magical ability hadn't affected her ability to learn the theory, so she knew what Hermione had just succeeded in doing.

"I'll accept that." She told the bushy haired brunette. "But we're not quite done here."

She smiled like the Cheshire cat, and Hermione couldn't help but feel inferior – this girl had style, and she was as confident as they come. She would have been a Slytherin, Hermione thought. Without a doubt.

"Like we've said, this isn't Hogwarts."

Kelly clicked her fingers softly, and the others advanced.

"Everyone undergoes a change here; you'll find out exactly who you are at St Trinians."

**Well, that's another bit of this story. I swear that I'm going to try and update this –somewhat- regularly. Or at least, more than the appalling speed at which it was happening before.**

**Reviews will encourage me. As I indicated before, they guilt me into writing for you =P**


	4. The Makeover

**Disclaimers are here.**

Hermione's brow furrowed as she considered Kelly's statement, although she kept a wary eye on the other girls who surrounded them, various objects in hand (including a hair straightener and a mascara wand) that she was able to make out now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"What do you mean?" She asked Kelly, perplexed and feeling slightly mortified at the hint of a tremor that only she was attune enough to notice.

"You're getting a makeover, you silly chit."

The girls broke into smiles, some giving catcalls and whoops of excitement, and Hermione was pushed lightly back into the chair as they approached, devices at the ready, glinting in the soft light.

**

Soft snores were drowned out by the disruptive sounds of breakfast at St Trinian's; screaming first years, a bacon eating competition, a food fight, and the constant ring of mobile phones (at least where the muggle children were seated).

Hermione's head, resting on the arm that was propped up by several textbooks, was dangling her hair precariously over a bowl of porridge as she slept, trying to make up for the hours lost the previous night when she'd been accosted by her schoolmates.

Speaking of the almost-kidnapping, Hermione's hair was now stylishly cut to minimise the bushiness, and to accentuate her face shape. Peaches really had done a good job on Hermione's normally difficult curls; it cascaded down her back (although, now, with her head on her arm, it threatened to fall into her breakfast) and she didn't doubt that if she tossed her head just so it would resemble a shampoo or hair dye advertisement from the television.

One of the classy ones.

Her school uniform, too, had been altered, giving way to a _severely_ short black dress, the school tartan only apparent in the edging, which sat over a delicate white blouse while her legs were encased in a pair of silken, thigh high stockings held up by lacy black suspenders. Her wedge shoes were nowhere near as high, or as sharp, as Chelsea's or the other Posh Totties', but the shiny, black patent leather looked nice with her outfit, and she could actually walk in them (they had found last night that the skinnier the heel, the more unstable she was).

Initially, the first years had taken her through their suggested outfit; white knee high socks, buckled shoes, and a skirt, shirt and tie combo (all with a hint of non-regulation about them), but the look was soon cast aside for something older. Thankfully everybody had agreed that it wasn't her style.

Following this, the chavs had taken over and diamantes, fake eyelashes and large hoop earrings came to the forefront. While certain aspects of this dress were secretly coveted by the brunette, she didn't honestly think it suited her well enough to be pulled off, so this too was thrown by the wayside, leaving the challenge to be picked up by the Goths.

Now _this_ was something Hermione found interesting.

Black covered her almost head to toe, and with incredible make-up and an excess of spiked bracelets she had the feeling that she was somebody else entirely. Perhaps an alter ego, Hermione had considered, thinking about the past before hurriedly thrusting herself out of her more unhappy memories.

The Posh Totties were last, and – strangely - Hermione felt slightly more at home dressed by them than any of the others, although there were some things she refused point blank (like the one set of lingerie with the…Hermione coughed, trying not to blush as she remembered Chloe's explanation of why the red leather was such a wonderful investment) and instead traded them for certain aspects of the other trends.

And so, Hermione found herself – like Kelly – not quite contained by the cliques that had grown in the microcosm that was 'school'. The approving glint in the Head Girl's eye and the suggestion of a smirk in the corner of her mouth told Hermione all she needed to know regarding the other girl's opinion.

The sound of the morning post – mostly owls, although a first year was handing out muggle letters to recipients – woke Hermione from her daze, and she was surprised to see two letters fall in front of her, both carried by Harry's new barn owl, Beowulf. She recognised the scrawled writing on the first as Harry's, and she smiled happily, opening it without much thought for neatness as her nails ripped the envelope.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How is St Trinian's? From what I've heard (and I've heard a lot lately) it's nothing like Hogwarts was… but that is beside the point. I hope you're settling in alright, I don't know how you could be going back to study, but then, you've always been studious, haven't you? Some things never change._

Hermione laughed at the smiley face Harry had drawn next that last sentence.

_I'm writing this for two reasons: one, I miss having you around, so please write back and tell me what's going on in your current world. Two, Ginny and I decided some weeks ago that for everything we had going for us, we are better off as friends._

Hermione gasped, not having expected that confession at all. Harry and Ginny were, well, to be honest, she had always thought them to be the hero and his damsel - destined to be together. She kept reading the rough handwriting.

_It is a mutual decision, and we are both happy with the result, particularly as it hasn't caused any rifts between me and the Weasleys – I can hardly bear to imagine what would've been had we parted on less amicable terms! Molly and Arthur are, and have always been, my substitute family, as have you and Ron._

_On that note, I'd really like it if you could make it to a brunch at Grimmauld this weekend to properly meet-_

The next few words had been scribbled out, and above them Harry had written:

_the girl I am currently pursuing (she's been quite stubborn up until now – this will technically be our first date (she's adamant that it isn't one!)). We have some history, all of us, and I would appreciate it greatly if you would be civil and adult about the situation and understand that despite our differences and her reluctance to commit to a relationship with me, we have a strong friendship and I hope that you can see this and be happy for me._

_Send back your response with Beowulf, he'll wait for your reply so don't hurry. I just need to know by Thursday night. Hopefully, I'll see you Saturday morning. Feel free to bring a friend or two, I'd love to meet any friends you've made._

_Cheers,  
Harry_

_PS: Ron's in the reserves for Chudley Cannons. He's stoked about it, as am I, but please refrain from mentioning it in front of me - I've heard more than enough to last me for a lifetime!_

_PPS: Ginny is currently dating Anthony Goldstein, one of the Ravenclaws from our year. Nice chap, but completely wrapped around her finger. They'll both be there Saturday._

The ringing of the bell that signalled classes brought Hermione out of her shocked stupor and she only just managed to catch herself before her arm slipped into the porridge. Standing, she shoved the other unread letter into her satchel and followed Aspasia to the first class of the day - Muggle History: The World Wars – her shoes making a delightful click against the floor.

**

"So, Hermione..." Chelsea said to her over Aspasia's head. "How are you liking the new look?"

"It's interesting." Hermione answered, choosing her words carefully. It was true, however; she did find it interesting. Unique. Chelsea raised an eyebrow at her cheekily.

"I mean, it's not regulation, though." The brunette finally said. "Am I – are we – even allowed to wear these?"

Chelsea and Aspasia laughed quietly.

"Allowed?" Aspasia repeated, bemused. "Get Hogwarts out of your head, Hermione darling. Start thinking like a proper St Trinian's girl - permission has nothing to do with it."

Hermione blinked at them both, processing their somewhat blunt explanation as they turned back to their books, making notes every so often.

At least, Hermione had assumed they were 'taking notes' on the class. Aspasia was actually writing a list of all the boys she'd dated, ranking them in order of best looking and bester kisser, while Chelsea was designing an outfit labelled at the top of the page as _Deadly Dominance_. It was ruby red, and had much lace on a bodice that left very little to the imagination.

After the class, Hermione encountered Kelly in one of the corridors as she searched for her next room, not sharing the following class with either of her two closer friends.

"Kelly." She greeted, to be answered with a small inclination of the Head Girl's black-topped head.

"So, you're style is certainly standing up for itself." Kelly told her appreciatively. "I like the shoes."

Hermione glanced at them herself before agreeing. The black wedges were very tasteful, and exceedingly comfortable.

Kelly smiled and moved a little way down the hall before stopping and turning once again to the new student.

"Oh, and Hermione…do ask Aspasia to explain about tonight's proceedings."

Leaving that perplexing, no-context statement hanging in the air, she vanished around the corner, leaving Hermione on her own to find the Chemistry lab, muttering about Head Girls, mystic mumbo jumbo and vagueness.

**

Having made several more acquaintances during the Chemistry lab (or 're-acquaintances' rather - not that she remembered who they were from her first night), it had been by far her most normal class of the day.

For the most part, anyway.

She was choosing to ignore the suspicious set up in the supply cupboard that was hidden behind a large, curling sheet of cardboard with the table of elements printed on it; Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that somebody was distilling Vodka in their spare time. She wondered vaguely whether or not the teacher was aware of the seeming alcohol production going on in his stores.

When she asked Aspasia about her conclusion, the girl merely smiled and began to talk about the night ahead. Of which, she had to say:

"This is one St Trinian's most valuable lessons. You'll use this far more than anything else you've learnt here, or at Hogwarts."

After they took a light lunch in the dining hall, Hermione, Aspasia and Chelsea regrouped to go to their last class of the day, a double period of Transfiguration. The teacher wasn't as competent or as strict as Professor McGonagall, but she was kindly and offered much praise when somebody succeeded so Hermione didn't particularly mind.

They chatted amiably with the others while they turned desks into ponies, cups into flowers and a girl's pigtails into a chandelier - much to her distress – and when the bell signalled the end of the day, Hermione was feeling quite content with how her day had gone.

She was in Chelsea's abode, half listening to the blonde gossiping with Aspasia, when she remembered her other letter, unceremoniously squished in her bag since breakfast. Pulling it out, she flipped open the parchment, noticing the absence of a traditional greeting.

_I hope my sister hasn't completely corrupted you, witch, before I get to see you again – which, incidentally, will be quite soon._

_I'm sure St Trinian's has been somewhat of a surprise (or at least, a change) compared to what you have been exposed to in earlier schooling, but it's a good education that you will receive there. _

_Be seeing you sooner than you expect,_

_Marcus_

Hermione smiled at seeing his pointy writing, so small but still manly. It was abrupt, as most of his communication was, but it was enough just to hear from him at all; he was such a recluse sometimes. She re-read the short letter, and wondered over his meaning about seeing her soon. After all, term had just started and there weren't holidays for a while yet.

Marcus had spent too much time around Aspasia lately, her vagueness and joy in keeping others in the dark was becoming more obvious in him.

**And that's another chapter done and dusted… Next up we'll see a new teacher-type, a brunch, an unusual lesson, and a new person to make Hermione's acquaintance. Not to mention the resurgence of a few already mentioned peoples.**

**Read and Review like a Responsible Reader.**


	5. Unorthodox

**Disc-c-c-c-claimer. Neither are mine, I am exercising them in this metaphorical field so they don't feel forgotten, or get unhealthy. =D**

Ten o'clock rolled around quickly, and Hermione, Chelsea and Aspasia collected the other Posh Totties on their way to one of the more secluded classrooms by the mechanic's garage. Hermione was quieter looking around her, having not yet explored this part of the school, and she followed the other girls until they reached their destination.

Among the students already inside were the first year twins - Tara and Tania - Taylor, Andrea and Celia. Some of the others were trailing in, and a couple were unknown to Hermione as they were several years younger.

What interested Hermione was the man standing at the front of the room behind the teacher's desk. He was currently staring at the door, as if waiting for someone to enter, and was garbed in a pair of very tight, black leather pants. In fact, he looked rather like a rock star with his big, scraggly black hair and eyeliner.

Hermione saw his eyes widen, and the hint of smile touched the corner of his lips, as Kelly finally walked in. She seemed nonplussed at his presence.

"Ladies." He called out, effectively silencing the chatter. "Class is started, and I believe we have a new student, yeah?"

His eyes roamed the room before settling on Hermione.

"Ah, here we go." He smiled, like the cat that got the cream, and wandered over to her seat on one of the desks.

"Hermione Granger." He stated, rather than asking her. It seemed that he and Kelly were rather alike that way. "This class is something vastly different from what you've ever done before. It's not about magic, and it's not about the average muggle curriculum."

"Oh?" Hermione challenged. "What makes you think I've never done it before?"

He grinned, and plucked her wand from her pocket.

"You've never done it without this." He rephrased. "That, I'll bet on."

He tossed the wand back to her, and she caught it before stowing it out of his reach.

"Welcome to your street-cred class." He finally explained, bouncing back to the front and writing the word 'crime' in enormous chalk letters across the blackboard.

"Alright, darlin's, give us some examples." He addressed the whole room, and the girls eagerly responded, creating a cacophony of sounds from which he chose the best suggestions.

Blackmail, extortion, theft; all sorts of criminal activities were written on the board now, and Hermione hand finally joined in, calling out 'fraud' which was dutifully written up as well.

The class went on to explain about how effective each was, and how to go about creating aliases, or gaining the upper hand against a rival or intended victim without using magic.

Hermione was actually enjoying herself by the end of it, although she was completely knackered as it was by then a quarter to twelve. When she returned to her room, she spotted Beowulf and decided that she might as well send the owl back to Harry with her reply (she was intending to bring Aspasia and Chelsea with her to the brunch).

Watching the owl soar away, she flopped into bed, transfigured her clothes and fell asleep almost instantly.

OoO

"So? What did you think?"

Hermione looked over to Aspasia, who was buttering her toast.

"Of last night? It was unusual." Hermione replied, choosing her adjective carefully. "Why are we learning about crime?"

"It's life, Hermione." Aspasia responded, taking a bite. "Sometimes the best way to do something isn't the right way."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. It was certainly taking some getting used to, St Trinian's. But she was enjoying it, she conceded, smiling.

The students' breakfast was interrupted then, by a flock of owls that flew in through the windows, each carrying an official looking envelope. It appeared there was one for everybody.

Opening it to read the letter, Hermione was not the only one to gasp as she digested its contents.

_Dear Student,_

_Unfortunately, it has come to the Board's attention that a number of undesirable teaching methods have been employed at your education centre. Thus, regretfully, an official will be sitting in on some of the classes until a decision can be made regarding closure or continuing running of St Trinian's School for Girls._

_We hope that you will do what is right, and assist our official if needed._

_Sincerely,_

_Leah MacDougall  
Assistant to Fitzgerald Umbridge, Head of the Magical and Muggle Education Office._

Hermione groaned. Umbridge. Would that awful, toady family never leave her alone? First fifth year, and now this! They had to be related; Umbridge wasn't that common a name.

"You've got to be kidding me." Kelly said, angrily. "They can't close St Trinian's – it's the only education centre left in England for witches. It might have to establish a brother school just to keep magical children in the country!"

Chelsea looked stunned, and flipped the letter over as if looking at the seal would actually reveal that the whole thing was a hoax.

"Bloody Umbridges!" Hermione exclaimed, and her own letter burst into flame. She dropped it in her orange juice, avoiding the flame.

Aspasia raised an eyebrow.

"You know this Umbridge person then?" She queried as Hermione scowled. "What's the deal?"

"Fitzgerald has a relative who goes by the name Dolores. She was a right cow and she nearly closed down Hogwarts, used a Blood Quill on Harry (and others), and she was everything horrid rolled into one toady woman." Hermione growled, slumping a little in her seat. "This means trouble."

"Joy." Chelsea said, before she swallowed the rest of her pineapple juice.

"Oh!" Hermione started. "I almost forgot – Harry is having a brunch on the weekend. Do you two want to come?"

Both girls nodded excitedly, and the group moved out of the hall to their first class of the day.

OoO

Hermione used Side-Apparition to bring Aspasia and Chelsea to Harry's home, and she nearly stumbled when she released their hands, only to be caught around the waist by a strong, masculine arm.

Looking up, she gasped and let out a little squeal at the broad shouldered man before her.

"Marcus!" She exclaimed, wrapping him up in a short, but tight, hug.

"Hello, witchling." He smirked, before turning to greet his sister and Chelsea with polite air kisses beside their cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked; curiosity evident in her eyes.

Marcus led them to the front door, and threw a casual, "I suppose it's for the same reason as you three", over his shoulder as he knocked against the hardwood.

The host pulled the door open, and a large grin appeared as he realised who was there.

"Hermione, you're here." He said redundantly as he enveloped her in his arms, ruffling her hair slightly. "How have you been?"

"Good, wonderful." She beamed back, only then remembering that she had guests to introduce. "Harry, these are some of my new friends, Aspasia Flint – you've probably met one or two times before – and Chelsea Windsor. You know Marcus." She said dismissively, though she sent an impish smile at the large ex-Slytherin who in return tugged one of her curls gently.

"Charmed." Harry said, kissing both girls' hands, and shaking Marcus' firmly before he herded them all through the house to the back garden.

Hermione, walking behind Chelsea, realised that the girl was looking especially pretty, though she wore a somewhat conservative (compared to her other outfits) pink, lacy, sundress. Quite possibly the most covering ensemble Hermione had seen the other girl in so far.

She, herself, was wearing a pair of shiny red pumps with a high waisted, black skirt with a delicate frilly top tucked into it.

Arriving in the garden, Hermione was pleased to see that it was remarkably well kept and that several flowerbeds were bearing pretty coloured flowers. Clearly, someone had been working very hard outside.

Some other guests were already milling about, and Hermione saw Ron talking to Ginny and her new male-friend, Anthony. Ducking over to say hello, she was pleased to see everybody getting along fine. Harry came to stand beside her quietly.

"Hermione, do you mind coming inside? I'd like you to meet my girlfriend." He said softly into her ear. She nodded, and he reminded her to keep an open mind as he guided her to the kitchen.

Inside what had been Molly's domain for so many years stood the one witch Hermione hadn't expected. She stood, goggle-eyed, for a moment, before Harry took the initiative and actually brought the dark haired witch's attention away from the canapés she was preparing.

"Pansy, Hermione's here."

Pansy Parkinson turned around quickly, the tiniest hint of fear and worry in her eyes, though it was speedily covered by a neutral mask.

"Good morning, Gra- Hermione." Pansy offered, trying to hide the tentativeness in her voice.

Hermione swallowed, but managed to gather herself together.

"Pansy."

They stared at each other for several moments, and then Pansy seemed to relax slightly.

"I was so sure you were going to hex me as soon as you saw my face." She said quietly, with a small smile.

Hermione giggled, and then embarrassedly covered her traitorous mouth with her hand. Pansy smirked.

"Don't worry, Hermione. That was my first reaction, too."

Hermione smiled then. This wasn't the same Pansy from Hogwarts; this one was worldlier and more attuned to the people around her.

The once-Slytherin outstretched her hand, and Hermione didn't hesitate to grasp it in return.

"It's nice to actually be introduced to you." Hermione told her slyly, as a smile lit her face.

"You, too." Pansy responded, easing into a smile of her own.

Hermione almost felt the seven years of bad-blood wash away as they released each others' hands.

"I'm done with these, Harry." Pansy said suddenly, gesturing to the food. "You can take them out to the guests."

Harry sighed heavily, but winked at Hermione and did as Pansy bade. The two women followed behind to mingle and be sociable.

OoO

A girlish giggle caught Hermione's attention, and to her surprise it was another former Slytherin that had arrived – shockingly, with Neville Longbottom – and Chelsea seemed to be rather taken with him. Theodore Nott had never been very outgoing at Hogwarts, and he wasn't one for following others, hence he had rarely spent his time goading the Trio, and had never attached himself to Draco Malfoy's posse, leaving Hermione with almost no background information except the somewhat creepy fact that he could see Thestrals before the war had broken out.

Looking at Neville, Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Harry? Did Nott and Neville arrive together?" She asked bluntly. Harry glanced over at the pair, catching their eye, and nodded. The lanky man gave a half salute, half wave to Harry – another surprise – and came over to say hello, Neville trailing behind.

"Are they together?"

It came out rather squeaky, and she immediately cleared her throat. Harry looked bewildered.

"What?"

"You know, 'together'?" She repeated, blushing slightly. Harry restrained a guffaw and fixed his expression to one of bemusement.

"No. They flat together, but I believe that both are interested in women rather than men."

"Harry, mate. How are you?" Nott – Theodore – said with a grin, clapping him on the back as Neville hugged Hermione.

"Good, good. You fellows?"

"Excellent."

Hermione looked between the three men.

"I'm away for a couple of months, and I miss out on everything." She stated, sounding rather confused and overwhelmed at the complete sincerity and calmness that was hovering over the situation that, less than two years ago, would have resulted in a near-death experience. Or at least, a verbal spar between House rivals.

Theodore smirked.

"Good to see you too, Granger."

She couldn't wipe the faint smile from her lips so she shook her head dejectedly and went with the flow, allowing the next few hours to be a nice brunch between friends and acquaintances.

Theodore, as it turned out, was practically Pansy's brother, and had spent a great deal of time at her home in his younger years, since the death of his mother at the hands of his deranged, Death Eater father.

He looked out for her, and was equipped with a formidable armoire of painful spells that weren't illegal in England, or on the Continent.

Hermione quite liked him: sneaky and dangerous, with a thirst for knowledge and a clean record.

She was currently seated between him and Marcus, and the elfish wine that Pansy had insisted be opened was sitting deliciously in her stomach and giving her a heady sensation.

Of course, that may well have been the immense satisfaction she'd gained from viciously mouthing off about Umbridges and ranting about how she would ensure St Trinian's stayed open. Naturally, Chelsea and Aspasia agreed vehemently, while the boys, led by Harry and Marcus, became incensed of their own accord and vowed to do something about the unfairness of it all.

Theodore had smirked, Neville and gone to get himself some more wine, and Pansy had merely watched, slightly intrigued, but with a look that made her eyes glint as the cogs turned in her sly, Slytherin brain.

**End of another chapter! Yay. So, um, I think I need to go see the second St Trinian's when it comes out here in Australia, because I've unfortunately lost a bit of inspiration, and having a tonne of assessments and exams and all that for uni really hasn't helped. =C**

**Please, Read and Review like a Responsible Reader.**


	6. Umbridges

**Firstly, I apologise for the appallingly long break between updates. I completely lost my inspiration for this story and it was driving me up the wall! I think I've got my funk back now though. I hope you like chapter six.**

**Disclaimer: I don't have any affiliation with either St Trinian's or Harry Potter, and I gain nothing but satisfaction and maybe some kind words from strangers.**

**Umbridges**

Happy to have seen her friends again (and to have made some new starts), Hermione was feeling rather altruistic at the break of the following day, but that changed dramatically when her drowsy state was shot to pieces by the twins most recent experiment; it involved rather a lot of dynamite and several bags of flour, at a much too early hour.

"IF YOU LIKE HAVING HAIR ON YOUR HEAD, I'D QUIT PLAYING AROUND WITH EXPLOSIVES AT LEAST UNTIL ELEVEN!" She screamed from the window as the first years scarpered. Aspasia threw a pillow at her head, unable to reach the younger ones (and not caring enough to get up), and in retaliation Hermione dropped it out the window, where a mist of flour was rising in puffs. Kelly, however, congratulated the former Hogwartian on her very St Trinian-like behaviour and told her there was a shaver in the bathroom if she wanted to go through with her threat.

OoO

Monday brought heavy clouds and fog that turned into drizzle, and then a violent thunderstorm that rumbled throughout the day. By two o'clock, they had heard snippets of the official who had been sent to observe them. It was a man who wasn't very much older than they (Kelly pointed this out as their first fault), perhaps in his twenties, with dull brown hair and frameless glasses, and, apparently, he'd already been labelled as out of his depth because according to Tanya he was a paper-pushing, girlfriendless fellow with a bad taste in ties.

It was not the best posting the department had ever made, and he was scheduled to be in their English class that afternoon.

When they walked in he was perched on a wooden chair with his black briefcase on his lap. He looked a little ruffled, but was fighting onward despite whatever events had befallen him earlier.

Niles, the First Years told them. His name was Niles.

Kelly had smiled, and winked at the Posh Totties, and Hermione felt a little bit sorry for the young man.

Kel stepped forward, heels clicking and offered a hand, saying, "Good afternoon, Mr Templeton."

He nodded politely, and shook the proffered hand weakly, but his eyes widened as the three Posh Totties stalked forward to take their seats, seductive smiles on each of their faces.

He wasn't going to last long. Not with those three on his case.

OoO

Hermione watched the ambulance trundle off, a mingled sense of satisfaction and worry hovering about her. She was almost certain that the events of the class inspection and short hour thereafter wouldn't do much to deter Fitzgerald Umbridge, and she had a horrid foreshadowing feeling that the toad would take it upon himself to visit, meaning that things needed to be taken up a notch if they were going to save the school, and in order to do that Hermione needed to clear some things with Kelly.

She glanced over at the taller girl, whose calm exterior revealed nothing to the brunette witch, and Hermione resolved to speak with her as soon as they were alone. Thankfully, the moment arose sooner than Hermione had expected.

When they left their seats after dinner, Hermione slipped in beside the Head Girl and murmured to her, "Kelly, if you wouldn't mind, I've some things I'd like to discuss with you - in private."

Kelly nodded ever so slightly, and walked by the stairs that the other students climbed into a nearby classroom.

"Ask away, Hermione." She said, shutting the door when they were both inside and resting against the wooden panels. Her unwavering gaze settled on the petite witch, and Hermione felt the usual tinge of insecurity before she bucked up and drew a wave of calm around her – there were things she needed to know.

"First of all, I'd like to know your real last name. It isn't really Jones, is it?"

The left side of Kel's lip lifted in a smile. "No, it's not. How very astute of you to have picked up that detail. It's Bones, actually. I believe Susan, my cousin, was in your year at Hogwarts; bright girl, with bite too, despite being a Hufflepuff."

Hermione stared at the Head Girl. "Susan? Susan is your cousin? Well, I never would have guessed that. I was thinking more along the lines of Lestrange, or Black or something of the like," she admitted. "But the Bones family is as formidable as any of them."

"Thank you, I'm glad you approve." Kelly said drily.

"Sorry, you know what I meant. Anyway, I'd as loathe be your enemy as any witch from those families." Hermione told her truthfully. "But back to the business at hand: Fitzgerald Umbridge – we can't afford to underestimate him. I want to be prepared when he comes-"

"How do you know he'll come?" Kelly interrupted. "Won't he just send another little deputy."

"No." Hermione shook her head. "He won't. He'll come here directly with all sorts of plans. I know his family. They aren't the kind to let people do second rate work when they can do it better. We need to be ready for him and able to attack him from all angles or he'll win."

Kelly was pensive, so Hermione added, "You know the girls better than I do, Kelly, you know their strengths. We need to start now, to find out everything we can."

"Are you sure he'll come himself?"

"Positive."

"Well," Kelly almost purred, her eyes glinting with anticipation, "we'd best get busy. I'll organise the girls, and we'll meet tonight when Flash comes in. His class can serve a slightly different purpose tonight."

"Should I write Harry, or Marcus?" Hermione pondered, talking more to herself than Kel.

The Head Girl smiled, and then opened the door for Hermione to leave.

"If you think it'll help. Oh, and one other thing, Hermione," she said breezily as the brunette passed her. "Remember that not all the girls here have magic. This will take muggle talents too."

Hermione gave a nod of understanding and disappeared down the hall and up the stairs while Kelly detoured via Ms Fritton's office, carefully shutting the door as she entered the Headmistress' rooms.

OoO

Flash was dressed to impress that evening, and Hermione had to actively avoid staring it his crotch, decorated as it was with sequins, something Aspasia found rather amusing. When Kelly arrived the loud chatter died down and all eyes were on the Head Girl.

"There's trouble for St Trinian's, girls. Fitzgerald Umbridge has sent his lemmings out to build up an arsenal against us, and he won't back down regardless of what he finds." She paused, gazing out over the student body. "We need to fight back, and we need to give it everything or there won't be a St Trinian's left for girls like us. All of you have talents that we can use – magic or muggle we have to work together. Chavs, emos, geeks – everyone – we're all in this together, as proud St Trinians."

Nods and calls of support echoed about the room.

"Polly, you and your girls need to dig up anything and everything you can find on Fitzgerald Umbridge – look on both sides of the border." Kelly instructed, pausing for a moment as the techies all disappeared, intent on setting up a flawless information room. "That's our first step. We need to know exactly who we're dealing with, what it is he wants, and what we can do to stop him."

"We'll have to be quick, girls." A new voice commented, and Hermione turned to see Ms Fritton standing in the doorway, Mr Darcy in her arms, her prominent teeth standing out in the electric lighting. "I've just received confirmation from the department that this Umbridge man is arriving in two days for a full scale review of the school that will include an inspection by the Board of Education and it allows for this fellow to overrule all authority figures - preposterous!"

"It'll be alright, Ms Fritton. We're St Trinians, we'll figure it out." Kelly comforted her, noting the tinge of sadness to the outrage. "Come on girls, let's get started!"

By eleven, Polly's team had uncovered a variety of papers and articles that spoke of Fitzgerald Umbridge, collecting a formidable arsenal in only two hours that could potentially save their school if they made the right decisions. Hermione and Kelly waited impatiently, peering over shoulders and asking questions until finally one of the girls found an article that looked promising.

"Kelly," Polly called out. "Have a look at this."

It was a document citing a previous inspection by Umbridge at a fairly prominent boys' school. About halfway down the page, was an excerpt from Fitzgerald himself that detailed exactly what he had found deficient, what he intended to change, and how he planned to go about doing so.

"Bingo." Kelly smirked.

OoO

Harry eagerly opened the plain white envelope, recognising Hermione's handwriting, and yelled for Ron to come downstairs.

"What's going on?" The red head demanded, looking about the room for some kind of alarming sight.

"Hermione's written." Harry responded, quickly scanning the lengthy letter. The frown told Ron it was happy news.

"What's happened? Is everything alright for her?"

Harry grimaced. "It's Umbridges again. The brother's trying to close down St Trinian's. They're in a bit of trouble and Hermione needs our help."

Ron cracked a small smile at that. "Well, you can't say we don't owe her some. What's she asking?"

OoO

Marcus happened to be at Theo and Neville's flat when the owl arrived for him the next morning discussing business with his former Housemate. He read the letter, folded it and placed it in his pocket, wondering whether he should tell the other two. After a moment, he chose to inform them partly.

"Fitzgerald Umbridge is to begin his inspection on Thursday, at St Trinian's. The girls might need help." He explained in his succinct manner. "Expect to hear from either Harry or me if they do."

OoO

Hermione felt the red dawn that appeared that morning was entirely appropriate for the battle that was going to take place in the coming days. At least this wasn't 'Life or Death', she thought privately (Hermione's priorities had rearranged themselves a great deal since her First Year, and now Education held a mere second place in her mind).

Fitzgerald Umbridge wasn't going to know what had hit him.

**Well, I hope it's alright, and that you enjoy it. I'll try to be better at updating this in the coming months. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and put this on alert/favourites. It makes me happy, and has been a strong incentive to get back into it (mostly because it made me feel bad about not updating sooner ^_^).**


	7. The Plan

**Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter, nor St Trinian's belong to me, I gain nothing but satisfaction and maybe some kind words from strangers.**

"**The Plan"**

Percy Weasley had been living a rather uneventful life after Hermione moved out of Gwynevere's Nest; the weekly visits from Ron and Harry had subsided, work had carried on, and if he wanted to see any of his family, the best bet was to head to the Burrow on any given day. Having Hermione flatting with him had been his major social lifeline, he had realised suddenly one Tuesday morning as he readied for work.

Curiously, it wasn't a week after this epiphany that an owl sent from Hermione landed gracefully on his desk at the Ministry, urging him to take the letter attached to his leg. Three affectionate nips later and the bird soared away into the distance, leaving Percy with a strange note from his old flatmate and a befuddled expression. And now, the bespectacled red-head was waiting in the sitting room for her to floo into the apartment, still none the wiser about what it was Hermione wanted from him.

The fireplace flared a brilliant emerald green at eight forty-five in the morning and the witch in question shot out of it unstably, but managed to nimbly avoid the coffee table. (The stupid thing had been the bane of every visitor's life, sitting directly on the exit path of the floo, but neither Hermione nor Percy had realised or cared, since they rarely travelled through it themselves, until Hermione had been required to zip home quickly from the Leaky one time, completely destroying the bloody thing and leaving it in pieces.) When she righted herself, a rather prideful look had painted itself on her face.

"I remembered to evade that blasted table," she said with a grin. Percy couldn't help but smile. "Don't laugh at me," Hermione admonished jokingly. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine," Percy responded. "Nothing much has changed around here. What can I do for you, Miss Granger? Need somewhere to stay while you break out a dragon? A hideout?"

She laughed at him and swatted his arm. "No, nothing that extreme," she assuaged him. "It's just that I need some files, and, well, I know you can get them, even if you don't like to admit or remember anything from that time."

Despite his rigour and deep-rooted Ministry patriotism during that particular period, the length of time Percy spent under the control of Dolores Umbridge wasn't entirely pleasant. He had figured out about halfway through the regime that it wasn't the way to be doing things, but couldn't get out of it – the Ministry was a volatile workplace at the best of times and he had desperately needed work as an independent renter.

"Who's file?" He asked warily.

"Fitzgerald Umbridge." The name made him flinch lightly. "I'm sorry Percy, but I really need it; as soon as you can get it, ideally by tonight."

"Alright," he agreed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "But only because it's you asking."

"You're a gem," Hermione beamed and latched onto him for a forceful hug. Percy patted her back awkwardly. "Send Hermes when you can. Thank you so much, Perce."

In a flash of green flame she was gone again, and Percy cleared his throat, intending to get his little mission over with as fast as he could.

OoO

Organising to meet Harry and Ron during school hours had been ridiculously easy, Hermione thought privately as she and Aspasia flooed to the Leaky Cauldron bang on eleven o'clock the next morning. A by-product of having such peculiar teachers with unorthodox lessons, she supposed.

The Wizarding pub was fairly crowded already, the lunch rush having just begun, so the two witches managed to sneak out into Muggle London where they intended to meet Ron and Harry without incident. Tom almost called out to Hermione, but a quick finger to the lips silenced him and he grinned his gap-tooth smile at her and tapped his nose knowingly before turning his head back to the other occupants.

The brunette witch had always liked Tom; he was an excellent barkeep – listening carefully, offering logical answers or suggestions to his patrons' questions, and he knew when to keep his counsel. The muggle side of the border was much busier, and the two had no trouble blending into the crowd (though Aspasia twice caught the attention of some young bankers, one of whom walked directly into a lamp post in his stupor). Eventually Ron's obvious mop of hair stood out like beacon amongst the monotone colours of the London work force, his height giving them even more of a chance to spot them.

"Harry, Ron!" Hermione called out. "Over here!"

"Hey, Hermione, how're you doing?" Ron asked, wrapping her up in a bear hug as soon as she was close enough. "I hear there's another infestation of Umbridges…"

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the name.

"_Fitzgerald_ Umbridge," she informed him, "is exactly like his sister, but without the magic; it doesn't seem to slow him down any though. Unfortunately."

Harry interrupted before the topic became one long bitching session about the family. "Your letter said you needed our help. Well, we're here – what can we do?"

At this, Hermione's face lit up instantly before slipping into a frightening expression that promised a slightly sadistic glee. Harry held back a flinch.

"The other girls and I have been doing some very mild plotting," she explained, "and some of the conclusions we've come to regarding saving our school involve a little bit of magic, and some very muggle methods, but the Board who are coming with our new friend to visit and judge have no idea about the Wizarding World. Now, as magical folk aren't supposed to use magic in front of non-magic folk, we'll have brought in undercover Ministry workers before our job is done if we alert the Department of Magical Education to a muggle inspection lead by Mr Umbridge."

She paused.

"Of course, on occasion, the Aurors are needed in situations where muggle have been caught in the midst of a magical outburst, and the Obliviators do belong to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so perhaps – and this is all I'm suggesting – we could cut out the middle man."

Ron looked slightly lost, working through her words slowly, but Harry's eyes were alight with curiosity and understanding.

"You are a sneaky one, Hermione," he told her, sounding impressed. "By coming directly to us, there won't be employees from the Department of Magical Education interfering with your plots, only a clean-up committee."

Hermione nodded happily.

"Is any of what you're planning on doing illegal?" He asked quickly.

"Of course not," Hermione declared. "Strongly discouraged, perhaps, but not illegal."

"Well, that's alright then," Ron said with a cheeky grin, having caught up. "I have to say, Hermione, you must be quite familiar with that line between legal and illegal these days-"

"Hey," she protested weakly, but Ron continued despite it.

"- because you sure hover around there a lot. Always on the right side, though," he concluded pleasantly.

"Hey, now, back to business," Aspasia butted her way into the conversation, having spent the last few minutes eyeing up a cyclist waiting at the lights. Goodness she loved Lycra outfits (on fit men, only, of course). "Are you two both prepared to clean up some serious crap after we unleash hell on that bastardo?"

Ron and Harry agreed.

"Good. We'll keep the muggle Board Members together in the hall, and you can Obliviate all the ones you need then," Aspasia finished, clapping her hands together once as if to signal the end of their meeting.

"I think I'm starting to feel a little sorry for this Fitzy fellow." Harry commented wryly, looking from one malicious expression to the other on the girls' faces.

"Don't," Aspasia replied casually, flicking her hair out of her face. "Now, come on Hermione, we've still got a visit to my darling brother left to do."

OoO

Two parts of the plan had been taken care of – Percy's owl Hermes had arrived at seven that same evening – and the atmosphere in Flash Harry's 'classroom' was eager as the third fell into place: thanks to Kelly's manipulation of the besotted fellow, a plethora of paintball guns, fireworks and flour bags covered the floor below the blackboard, reaching the first row of desks, and the lithe man was finishing up an explanation for Celia revolving a suspicious looking brown paper bag that she now held.

"Tara, Tania, the fireworks are yours, as is the flour," Kelly intoned. "Celia, you've got what you need… chavs-" ("Oi!" came the indignant cry from Taylor at the label) "-you'll be in charge of the paintball guns so get used to firing them," she ordered.

"Wha'ever." Taylor eloquently responded, climbing through the pile of artillery to collect a gun, the rest of the chavs following her lead. There was a loud repetitive thwacking sound and the Posh Totties had to dive forward as one of the chavs accidentally hit the trigger. Gazing woefully at the newly decorated pink, blue and fluorescent green wall behind them, Kelly added, "And learn how to aim."

"Kel, a word?" Flash asked hopefully from his place by the door. She gave him a derisive once over, ice-queen that she was, but nodded and followed him out. Hermione joined in the conversation Polly had struck up with Chelsea, to which Peaches and Chloe listened attentively.

"According to our trawling," Polly was saying, "the seven board members are all men, of varying ages, and various quality; the plan is to take them down one by one, leaving Our Fitzy for last." She smirked, straightening her glasses. "Now, as soon as Kel comes back-"

As if on cue, the Head Girl re-entered the room, a sheepish Flash trailing behind her like a puppy, muttering something along the lines of 'right, no mixing of business and pleasure'.

"-we'll get on with explaining the plan in its entirety," Polly finished, scrabbling to gather her laptop and other miscellaneous items as she moved to the front of the classroom, aiming to set up the animated run through of what was intended to happen the next day.

"Quiet, girls!" Kelly called out after an ear-splitting whistle. "This is how we're going to get even."

One of Polly's girls dimmed the lights and the projector screen was pulled down, and by hitting a button on the laptop the techies got things underway, Polly narrating as the animation began to play out as if in response to her words.

"The eight targets will be arriving tomorrow at the arranged time of oh-nine-hundred hours," she began, the nine cartoon men walking up to the Entrance Hall. Hermione had to give them points for the toadish face they'd given Fitzgerald Umbridge, "whereupon they will be routinely placed at specific points through the school. Now, according to our information, these tend to be the same in all situations, but if this isn't the way things turn out the plan still stays the same. Alright?"

Head bobbed up and down in understanding.

"Okay," Polly went on, "Board Member One will be demobilised in the art room during First Year art class, at oh-nine-thirty hours. Tara, Tania, this is your first target: Mr Gavin Grey. Make it messy," she instructed them, clearly unworried by the gleeful expressions now lighting up their faces.

"Following the loss of Mr Grey will be targets Number Two and Three: Misters Black and Brown, who will respectively be demobilised with help from the Cornish Pixies Aspasia's brother is sending us, and drugged Celia, during morning tea," the bespectacled blonde continued professionally, checking the animation as it showed one of the men being tugged into a broom cupboard by a cartoon, but unmistakable, Aspasia while another began acting strangely upon drinking his tea.

"Numbers Four and Five will be dealt with during Sports," Kelly took up the post of informer with a determined voice, "as the Board will split up. It's likely that Umbridge will remain inside the school building with Nicholson and Greyson, so that means the Four and Five are probably going to be Mr White and Mr Nichols. White is to be your target, Taylor," she directed, "and Nichols, he's got an appointment with your flour bags, you twin terrors," she told Tara and Tania with a curling cat-like smile.

"As for Messrs Greyson, Nicholson and Umbridge," she concluded, "well, that's your territory, Granger." And she left the floor with a sweeping arm, encouraging Hermione to stand up before the other girls. The brunette witch complied, and was faced with a sea of expressions ranging from vindictive glee to earnest eagerness as they regarded her and the moving pictures behind that depicted their increasingly complex plan.

"Umbridge is for me and Miss Fritton," she told them determinedly. "Whatever happens, leave them to us. But the other two are fair game. The plan is that we disable Nicholson with some choice Weasley products," she grinned malevolently, "while the Posh Totties do what they do best with Greyson, ensuring that a school inspection is the last thing on his mind."

**I hope this is okay. I feel like a crazy person: into it, not into it, hot, cold, 2010, 2011… GOSH! Anyway, Happy New Year everybody.**


	8. The Skirmish

**Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. All I gain is satisfaction and maybe a review or two, but considering how long it's taken me to update, I'd be genuinely surprised and very thankful… **

**I have kind of lost a little (or a lot) of inspiration regarding this, so I'm sorry if these final two chapters aren't very good, but I feel like I should give some kind of conclusion to all you kind people who have reviewed, favourited, alerted and just been so lovely. Thank you for reading, I appreciate every hit and really appreciate every review!**

**On that note, this hasn't been properly edited. I thought it better to post first and find errors later. So please note them in a review if you find any.**

"**The Skirmish"**

The dawn that heralded Fitzgerald Umbridge's arrival at St Trinian's was peaceful – Hermione would have phrased it 'suspiciously quiet', even if she hadn't known what was to go down later that day. There were no explosions breaking through the silence, no engines running, and no chink of glasses as Matron experimented with spirits. The entrance hall had been cleansed of shrunken heads and graffiti, and Beverley, the receptionist, was awake and completely unaffected by drugs of any type.

The school looked like any respected girls' institution should: pleasant, clean and posh.

In other words: it looked nothing like St Trinian's.

Around the back, however, there was a bit of bustle going on; a large, burly fellow with dark hair and frightening teeth surreptitiously handed Hermione a wooden crate that shook violently, as if something were trying to escape.

Something with teeth and claws.

And more than a little bit of wrath, too, by the sound of things.

"Be careful, witchling," Marcus ordered Hermione, burying his hands in his pockets. She grinned, and shifted the weight of the box to her hip.

"I'm always careful," she reminded him. "But this is personal, so I'll be sure to make it work. You don't have to worry about me."

He gave a look that she couldn't decipher and said, "I mightn't have to, but I always will."

He swooped in suddenly and, a palm cupping her cheek, kissed her hard. It wasn't long or romantic, but it was real and emotional and Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach as his brawny body pressed her tightly up against the door. His thumb caressed her cheekbone, and then, with a pop, he was gone, leaving Hermione standing pleasantly stunned, knees weak, with a box of enraged Cornish Pixies in her arms.

It took her several moments before she managed to shake herself back into the present, her fingers lingering over her lips for part of that time, but when she did it was to check their schedule.

Eight-oh-two – a little less than an hour to have things set and ready. Hermione slipped silently inside.

OoO

The knock echoed obtrusively through the school at precisely five to nine. Beverley smoothed down her hair and clothes are moved to welcome the Board of Education and Fitzgerald Umbridge into the school. His face was as toadish as his sister's, but there was an undertone of sleaziness that emanated from his very pores. Garbed garishly in fashions favoured by the late Cornelius Fudge, namely a bowler hat of magenta hue, Umbridge had strolled up the path to the doors with a sneer that would have impressed Snape.

"'Morning," he said to the air over Beverley's left shoulder. "We're hyaah to begin the inspection, if you could tell Miss Fritton." He was one of those people whose aitches had a personality of their own – they probably lurked in places where they shouldn't have existed, too, Hermione had no doubt.

"Yessir, right away, sir," Beverly nodded and scurried across the foyer.

Umbridge buffed his nails on his pinstripe suit.

"Ah, Mr Umbridge," the Headmistress crooned, hiding her distaste under a pile of congeniality. Mr Darcy growled from under her arm. "Welcome to my humble school. I assume you'd like to get started straight away?"

"Indeed," Umbridge said. "But first, let us enter your hoffice."

Mr Nicholson glanced upwards and was startled to see the entire staircase crowded with girls. Their expressions could best be described as eager, with a hint of malice. He shuddered and broke eye contact. When he looked back up the stairwell was empty.

"I will divvy out areas of the school to the Board and we'll conduct our inspection concurrently." He smiled sharkily, as if he knew something that was going to get them in trouble as they all shuffled into the office. Hermione was unbothered, watching the footage coming through Mr Darcy's collar camera. Even if he did know of their rebellious activities, it wasn't going to help him much.

It didn't take long to organise the Board, and from the moment Umbridge entered Miss Fritton's office the game was on (and cheating was practically the rules).

The men were lined up, four in the front, three behind, and Umbridge marched along their line, giving what he probably thought was a witty and fear-inspiring speech. It consisted mostly of 'let's dig up some dirt', 'don't be afraid to get messy', and 'remember, you're livelihood depends on your work pleasing me' – although the last point was veiled and subtle, and would've been automatically translated by a normal person as 'keep up to par, boys, we are paying you for this!'

"Alright," Umbridge barked. "Inspection begins now."

Misters Grey, Brown and Black nodded and made their way to the stairs, clipboards and briefcases in hand, ready to get to work. Miss Fritton smiled. It looked very sharp and pointy, but Umbridge didn't notice. He was busy picking lint off his pinstriped shoulder as the other Board members filed out to begin the inspection of the lower floors.

Students took up their posts in silence, anticipation running high in the air.

"I think it only fair to warn you, Miss Fritton," Umbridge said softly when they were alone, "that this school won't be continuing in its role as educational institution for much longer. I can guarantee it, and I _will_ _be guaranteeing it_."

Miss Fritton's lip curled in disgust, but she added in polite tones, "And I think it prudent to warn you, _Fitzgerald_ _Umbridge_, that my girls won't accept that."

"Ah, but they aren't really in a position to argue, are they?" he commented nastily. "Now, I expect you've results and statistics somewhere in here for me to peruse?"

"Yes, I do," Miss Fritton said coldly, and the business of the school inspection began.

OoO

Mr Grey was nervous. He was uncomfortable around ladies even at the best of times, but the expressions on the faces of these girls were plain frightening. The two at the front were identical, and the twin grins they were shooting at him were quite possibly the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen.

"Good morning, sir," they greeted in sing song voices. He stepped cautiously into the room, like a deer poised for flight. Unnoticed above his head a bucket of green gloop wobbled precariously.

OoO

Mr Brown entered one of the common rooms to find Celia, her dreadlocks and hippy dress intact, walking towards him with a tray of tea.

"Hello, sir," she said with a polite half-curtsey. "I've been instructed to prepare you some tea. I hope you find today's inspection to be unnecessary – it really is a wonderful school. I've learnt a lot here, and I'd be ever so sad to leave."

Surprisingly, Brown took the tea without a hint of hesitation. Celia almost goggled at him. Surely he knew not to accept drinks at St Trinian's at face value! She schooled her expression quickly though and, with a slightly smug smile, exited the room and closed the door, locking it behind her, and pocketing the key. It was safer for Mr Brown in the long run to be confined in a particular space. The visions he'd be seeing in, oh, about five minutes would be spectacular.

Quickly, Celia scarpered.

OoO

Mr Black's shiny shoes tapped an arrogant staccato down the hallway, the black briefcase in his left hand swaying gently with his gait. He was a rather attractive man, but in the same way that Mrs Malfoy was attractive. He had a look that said 'I'm above you in so many ways, and it's only by my grace that you're allowed to be near me'.

Aspasia counted to four, before stepping forward into the light. She was wearing a sultry expression and little else. Her skirt could have been a belt and her shirt was in tatters, revealing her toned stomach. Her heels matched the sound of Mr Black's shoes, and as he rested his gaze on her she smirked, slowly and sensually, and stalked into a nearby room.

Mr Black had a bit of a reputation with the ladies and they were banking on his immorality to entice him into the room. Aspasia waited, listening to the telling silence - he hadn't made up his mind whether he'd follow her or not. She double checked the room itself while she counted to ten.

The distinct blue skin of the Cornish Pixies caught her eye, and she licked her lips in anticipation. They were frozen, with tiny little glares on each little face revealing their displeasure at the situation. Once they were freed this room would be a disaster zone. When she got to eight, the footsteps had started, bringing Mr Black closer to trouble.

Aspasia moved into position.

OoO

"Poorly kept, this school," Mr White muttered to himself as he took in the graffitied stairwells. "Disgusting. I don't even want to know what _that's_ supposed to depict." He carefully avoided looking at the crude red marker drawing.

"It's a sex position," a grating voice informed him anyway from somewhere on the floor above. "But I don't suppose you've ever needed that sort of information."

A dark haired girl bedecked in jewellery and sparkly bits and bobs stood at the top of the staircase, leaning on the banister. He immediately identified her as a chav and his nose wrinkled automatically.

Taylor raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to comment on her appearance.

"My dear girl! That is absolutely _none _of y-" he began in outrage instead. Taylor ignored him and added conversationally: "'Course, you won't eva need it after this."

She brought her right arm into view and cocked a large paintball gun, then tapped it twice on the wooden banister. In seconds, Mr White was facing twelve determined girls holding impressive looking paintball weaponry.

"What in the name of God are you doing!" he screeched. "This is an outrage! I've never been so-"

Taylor had had enough. She fired the first shot, aiming straight below his crotch. It impacted heavily with the floor and he flinched, hands flying protectively down to his groin.

"HAVE AT HIM, GIRLS!" she yelled with sadistic glee.

Meanwhile, Mr Black hammered on the door, trying to force it open as he was bombarded by twenty-seven irate Cornish pixies. Occasionally he had to fight off the dratted things as they tore at his hair and face with sharp, claw-like nails and bit his ears with their viciously pointed teeth.

"Let me out!" he screamed, oblivious to the thuds sounding from the other side of door. Quite frankly, all he wanted was to be away from the damned pixies. He could've taken anything apart from them. "Open the door, girl! Open it right now! Please! Let. Me. Out!"

Aspasia counted, very slowly, from ten down to one, and when she reached her target flicked her wand against the lock.

Unsurprisingly, chaos ensued. Paintball guns, Cornish pixies, and the two men combined to become a horrific, chaotic mess, punctuated by screams of pain as Misters Black and White did their best to escape from the hallway, accompanied on occasion by bursts of manic laughter from the girls and an enormous, reverberating explosion from outside as the twins dealt with Nichols.

He'd never had a chance of knowing their plot, looking back on it. The flour had erupted with a whoosh, the ball of flame igniting the shed to the man's utmost horror and shock as he held the two extension cords he'd just plugged together.

To make it worse, Tania had said pitifully, "Sir, why did you destroy our sports room?" and started a fairly convincing waterworks while Nichols blathered out apologies and awkwardly tried to comfort her. Then the enormity of the situation had coagulated in his brain and he'd fled, the black briefcase snapping open and a pile of documents fluttered down around the students, turning orange in the glow of the fireball behind them.

"I suppose we should start putting that out," Tara mused apathetically to her sister.

"But it's so pretty."

"True," she admitted. "Well, maybe we can let it burn a _little_ longer… Kelly'll come sort us out if we leave it too long."

"Brilliant," her sister replied, dropping down her sunglasses to watch the flames lick at the wood, the black smoke billowing up into the atmosphere.

OoO

Weasley Wizard Wheezes had a reputation for disruption and destruction with style, and their Whizbangs were at the top of the range. Hermione had called in a favour to have some of the more destructive fireworks delivered, and now they stood in regimental lines waiting for ignition, and for Nicholson to appear.

The good thing about Whizbangs was that they weren't harming – at least, not in a burning sense. The noise might cause you to be partially deaf for a day or two, but when it came to serious injury, the risk was small.

As such, the plan was to bombard Mr Nicholson, and then send the Twirling Tailer after him to chase him off school premises. But Kelly, having an eye for drama, had told girls in charge to wait until they'd amassed the entire Board in prime target position, whereupon the most impressive display could really hit the heights desired.

So it was that Mr Nicholson was thoroughly disturbed by the angelic faces that greeted him as he stepped in the classroom. The smiles weren't quite genuine; they looked as if they might be more appropriate on a shark, or a piranha, not thirteen year old school girls.

With some trepidation, the man began his inspection. His questions were consistently answered with 'yes, sir', 'no, sir,' 'three bags full, sir', and it did nothing to help calm his nerves.

OoO

Greyson looked like a hawk. At least, that was what Peaches thought as she stared at his profile from the shelter of the doorway. "_Confundus_," she whispered, pointing her wand at him.

Dazed, the man was an easy target for the three Posh Totties and their junior aides and he was quickly bundled into their pink and white change room. When he came to, he was faced with the surprisingly terrifying image of three very attractive eighteen year olds wearing garter belts, feathered dressing gowns, and holding an array of tools that looked disturbingly like weapons though, in fact, they were merely hair dressing paraphernalia. He looked down to see his wrists and legs strapped to the chair.

"What's going on?" he demanded quite fairly of them.

"We're not happy with the interference from the Board," Chelsea informed him, pointing her hairdryer at him. "St Trinians is a good school. We're happy here."

"It's a cavity," Greyson denied, "where festers a complete disregard for authority and discipline."

"We only give our respect to those who deserve it," Chloe noted unsmilingly as she approached with a hot curler. Greyson flinched.

"What are you going to do to me?" the man asked in trepidation as the three girls drew closer with their implements of choice.

"Just a little makeover," Peaches said silkily.

OoO

Hermione waited patiently to give the signal that would bring all the Board Member into the entrance hall, voluntarily or not. Kelly stood beside her, listening to reports coming in from her earpiece.

"Now!" she instructed sharply and Hermione send off the signal with a flick of her wand.

It took less than five to gather the opposition into the hallway, and some looked decidedly worse for wear. A clunking sound indicated Greyson's appearance, the poor man still tied to the chair, and a burst of laughter echoed around as the girls caught sight of him. He was dressed in drag. Very stylish drag it was, too, because he looked surprisingly feminine despite his manly physique. He also looked surprisingly traumatised, but Hermione's deepest thought on the matter was '_it really was far too much pink for one person – and were they feathers?_' before Kelly made a chopping motion with her hand, directing the girls to set off the Whizbangs.

It was spectacular.

Hermione had never been more proud of a Weasley product as she watched the room light up with colours and sparks. A green dragon materialised out of the sparks, and amidst all the chaos of fleeing, screaming Board Members Hermione watched as they struggled to force the doors open. The causal perusal of the destructive disruption was interrupted, however, by a tremendous bang as Miss Fritton's door swung open.

Fitzgerald Umbridge advanced through them – his face twisted as though his head might explode – hatred in his eyes and a vicious expression on his face.

**This has taken far, far, far too long. No promises on when the final chapter will be up, only that it will eventually be completed. One day. In the future. I hope (because I'm about to throttle this story).**

**Please Read ****and**** Review.**


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